


One More Night

by RyanTyler2294



Category: DC Animated Universe, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, No powers Clark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 03:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10267460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTyler2294/pseuds/RyanTyler2294
Summary: Clark has to cover one of Bruce's charity events. He knows that Bruce is a playboy but he wasn't expecting Wayne to be this flirtatious.





	

“You’re going to wear that?” Lois asked looking at Clark’s suit. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t well fitted to him. They were going to a high profile gala, and a certain kind of attire was to be expected. What he was wearing wasn’t it, and he knew it.

“It fits,” Clark shrugged.

“Yes, but, maybe something a bit more tailored to you.” Lois was starting off gentle, Clark could tell. It was only a matter of time before she became stern, like a mother.

“It is,” Clark looked down at himself. “Besides, no one cares what the press dresses like at these things. If anything, I think it boosts their egos when we can’t afford to dress as well as them.”

“Come on Kent,” Lois crossed her arms. “I’m not going to be late because you refused to dress yourself properly.” Lois pointed him back in the direction of his room. “I know you have a good suit in there, now go fish it out and put it on.”

Clark sighed, but did as he was told. He knows he’s being childish, but when he woke up this morning and remembered what event he had to cover, it had instantly put him in a bad mood. He didn’t want to go to some high profile gala and find out why the rich decided to be nice enough to donate money this time around.

He preferred to cover real news, not these puff pieces. But this is what happens when you come in late and piss off Perry, you get put on the Puff Patrol. He only had himself to be blame. He had been putting in more of an effort to be on time these past few days because he definitely wanted to avoid this event. But in the end, he had been late after a lunch meeting with a source.

It was with an elderly woman trying to explain the poor conditions of the apartment complex she was in. Clark had gotten caught up in the conversation as she showed pictures and retold her tales of woe. It was clear that she was just happy to have someone listen to her, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her he had to leave. It didn’t take him too long to get back, but it was late enough that Perry noticed.

“You’re just in time,” Perry had smiled. The irony wasn’t lost on Clark. “We were just deciding who would be covering the Wayne fundraiser.” Clark didn’t have to ask. He knew it was going to be him.

Bruce Wayne was hosting a fundraiser for the boy school on the east side of Gotham. It was an annual fundraiser he hosted to raise money for the new school year. He was one of the sole sources of income for the school, which was commendable, but Clark didn’t feel the need to cover Bruce’s fundraiser. Maybe if he was able to talk to the school officials and some people from the Board of Education, some teachers and student, and shed some light on the situation, more people would get involved.

But no, they were just highlighting Bruce and all the amazing things he does when he and his rich ilk decide to allow their riches to trickle down and soothe the parch throats of the poor. And he, a senior reporter for the world’s most prestigious newspaper, whose mission was to cover real news and real stories, was now on his way to this perversion of charity.

“You’re still brooding?” Lois raised an eyebrow once they arrived. Clark hadn’t been that talkative the whole ride. Normally he was rather loquacious as he went over his notes and talking points for the story he was trying to cover.

“I really rather not have to do this,” He sighed as he opened the door to the cab for her.

“Me either, but sometimes something good can come from these things.” She took his arm as they braced themselves to go through the swarm of media. They both had passes, so they were allowed inside the gala. It gave them a better chance at getting an exclusive interview.

Inside the venue was quieter than outside. There was a full wind and string orchestra providing live music. Servers carrying hors d’oeuvres and champagne on trays floated through the crowds and weaved through the guest like a dance. They and the media fluttered around each other as they both got their job done. It was impressive to watch.

“You’re right,” He sighed, trying to have a better mindset. If he looked grumpy, no one would talk to him. If he came back with nothing, then Perry would give him hell.

“That’s the spirit,” He and Lois were still in the foyer getting their coats checked in. “Your hair's a mess,” She chastised as she reached up to fix his unruly hair, soothing his curls back. She was smirking at him saying something about him being a big baby and not being able to take care of himself when there was a suddenly an uproar.

Of course Wayne was fashionably late, as always. It helped to give a more dramatic entrance. Wayne strode past them with his date for the night on his arm. A tall, slim yet curvy model who stood almost as tall as him when she was in heels. He spared Lois and Clark a single glance as he continued past them, never breaking his stride.

“Well,” Lois had her hands on her hips. “Let’s get to work.”

They split up once they entered. They could cover more ground that way. Clark got pulled into a conversation with Oliver Queen almost immediately. He bumped into Queen a lot at these kinds of events. He was one of the few people who was very open during interview, and didn’t turn journalist the other way.

“Of course I came!” Queen’s voice carried. “It’s for the kids. If you didn’t come then well… that’s your problem.” He took a sip from his flute glass.

“Do you know what the money is going towards, specifically?”

“Library, and the dorms, and I think their food plan so they’re not just eating artificially colored garbage. Brucy mentioned a few other things, but I can’t remember all of them. But ya know, there’s been a big change in the school the past few years. These things seem to be working, so why not give a little extra?”

“So true,” Clark smiled softly, his hand moving quickly as he took down what Queen said in shorthand. “I also heard that you have your own fundraiser coming up soon. Something about saving the elephants?”

“Yes, I am. It’s in another month. I’m going to raise the money and send it to the country’s most being affected by it. I’m turning it over to the people in the actual organizations ‘cause they know what they’re doing better than me.” Queen laughed.  

“Are you going to be taking on any other endangered species? Species such as the Black Rhino, Ethiopian Wolf, Lions, and the Riverine Rabbit are endangered as well.”

“Fuck lions,” Queen took a sip from his glass. “That’s off the record.”

“I understand,” Clark said. “What about your alligator project. How did that go?”

“Well. It didn’t make as big as a difference as I would hope,” Queen sighed. “But spreading awareness and raising money to stop poachers is important in its own right.”

“I heard your efforts have you starting to become a vegetarian?” Clark raised an eyebrow.

“I’m trying, man,” Queen sighed. “Meat is murder. I feel bad for the little guys. I mean, sure we’re meant to be omnivores, but the way we go about getting our meats is what’s messed up. Mass producing and abusing them…” His voice trailed off.

“I understand.” Clark nodded as he continued to write. Clark wasn’t too fond of company packaged meat himself. He did still eat it, just not when he didn’t have to. However, if his family sent something up from when they went hunting, then he was more than happy to have it. That was just him though.

“I think that’s Luthor over there,” Queen winced. “I’m going to make strategical retreat.”

“Thank you for your time.”

“Any time,” Queen said before making his way through the crowd. Clark did the same. He was hoping to find someone else who was willing to talk to him. The ones who were mostly wanted to brag about the fact that they were donating in the first place.

Clark sighed as he stood by one of the walls and looked over his notes. He didn’t have much. Maybe he would just let Lois take this one and tell Perry that he had a lead about Queen’s next project. It wouldn’t be a lie, and it would get him out of having to stay here any longer.

“Get anything good?” Lois popped up next to him.

“Kind of. Queen’s got some stuff going on, but I don’t have much about this event.” Clark frowned, recalling one of the conversations he had with one of the female guests. When he asked he why she donated, she simply explained that she didn’t even know what this event was for, but one wouldn’t dare to not show up to a Wayne event.

“How did you fare?” Clark asked.

“Alright. It’s almost impossible to get close to the Prince of Gotham: his harem is standing guard.”

“Harem?” Clark was confused.

“Over there,” Lois gestured vaguely, so as not to be rude. Sure enough, there was Wayne in the center of a group of women, chatting it up and at ease as he entertained. One girl on his arm, the other leaning on him. His hand resting on her lower back to keep her steady. Her perfect kept nails grazing across his chest as she whispered something in his ear. Wayne laughed and said something back, flashing her a filthy grin.

“I don’t know what people see in him,” Lois shook her head.

“Me either,” Clark admitted. “They’re all rich. It’s not like being richer makes that much of a difference.” He folded his arms as he watched Wayne delight all the girls around him. It was nauseating.

“There’s a difference. He’s the richest. If there was a lower, middle, and upper class, he would be top tier. It’s not so much about gaining in wealth as it is gaining in status.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Me either.” Lois agreed. “It’s like a whole different culture with a whole different set of rules.”

“That makes since.” Clark slumped.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. I think I’m just finally starting to get how these people think.”

Bruce way still preoccupied with his lady guest. The more flirtatious one of the group, the one who had been whispering in his ears moments ago, was playing with his tie now. Even across the room, anyone could tell she was out to seduce the Playboy, and was doing a pretty good job of it. She had his full attention and he was giving her a look that Clark had never seen before, pure want and desire.

“You would think they would get a room huh?” Lois joked lightheartedly.

The woman was pulling him closer now. She had him by the lapels of his suit. She was practically nose to nose as she spoke to him. Her mouth getting closer like she was going to kiss him on the lips. She teased him by giving him a slow peck on the corner of his mouth.

Clark felt something in him snap at that moment. He knows he’s been grumpy about the whole event, and he knew why the whole time. It had nothing to do with the culture of the wealthy. All his earlier complaints were just to cover how he really felt. His fist were clenched at his side and he decided that he was going to sit here and just take this.

“I’m going to get out of here,” Clark told Lois. “Would you be okay getting back?”

“Yeah, I would. Where are you headed?”

“Home,” Clark said shortly. “I’m not feeling the best. “

Lois’s brow furrowed. She knew he was lying, but wasn’t going to call him on it. Instead, she bid him goodnight and let him go.

He took one glance at the scene in front of him before he started to walk out. This was a mistake on his end. He and Bruce locked eyes and now the Playboy had that look on his face. He was starting to become more himself as he managed to get loose from the girls approached Clark. That turned a few heads and caused a few whispers, but Clark didn’t care: he was already on his way out.

“Hey, Kent, wait up,” He could hear Bruce calling after him. And with so many people here, he couldn’t just walk away from him. Not with the rest of the press lurking. He didn’t doubt that this incident would somehow make its way back to Perry, and he would get chewed out for not making time for Bruce when he sought him out. He stopped and turned around but he didn’t try to smile for him.

“Why the long face?” Bruce asked him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you leave this early.”

“Not now Bruce,” Clark’s voice was quiet so only they could hear each other. “I can’t do this today.” It was almost satisfying to watch the way Bruce’s face crumbled the smallest bit before he pulled it back it so he stayed in character.

“Come on,” Bruce tried. “I’m sure it’s not…”

“That bad?” Cark had to fight to keep his voice down. “It’s not that bad to have to be here with you doing what you do best.”

“Don’t be like that,” Bruce was making an attempt to soothe Clark and keep up his persona.

“Look, I get your reasoning. I do, but I can’t keep doing this. Goodnight, Mr. Wayne.” Clark started walking again.

“Clark wait,” Bruce took off after him again. This time Clark didn’t wait for him. “Come on. Let’s just - ”

“No,” Clark kept up his brisk pace. “I get it. I can’t deal, and that’s my problem. I’ll get over it.”

“Clark,” Bruce got a hand on his shoulder when he caught up because Clark had to wait for someone to get his coat from coat check. “We can talk about it. It’s not that bad”

Clark shook his head with a sad smile, “You’re right. It’s not that bad to have to come to these dumb things and watch my boyfriend get pawed on by every woman who comes to the event. I shouldn’t be upset by that at all.” He kept his voice low, but they were in a pretty crowded area. There wasn’t a full chance that no one heard them.

Bruce must have realized the same thing. His mood seemed to darken. “Don’t do this here just because you’re upset. If you want to talk then we can take it somewhere else.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’re the one who followed me out.” This time Clark was speaking in a normal tone. He had his coat and was heading for the door.

“You’re causing a scene.” Bruce was still on his heels.

“I’m causing a scene? You’re the one following me. I don’t want to talk. I’m done. That’s all there is to it. You told me what I was signing up for when this all started and I thought maybe things would be different, so I went along with it, but I was wrong, and I can’t, so I’m leaving.”

“Clark.”

“There’s nothing but paparazzi out there,” Clark’s hand was on the door. “If you want this to be on every front page for every gossip column be my guest.”  With that, he slipped out the door, more than relieved that Bruce didn’t follow him. It was a bit of a low blow because Clark knew he couldn’t follow. He had a party to entertain. He was probably in there right now making up some story to go along with what had just happened.

It didn’t matter anymore.

Nothing these past eight months mattered.

It was heartbreaking, yet so liberating.

Sure, in the beginning things had been fun. Bruce insisted on keeping his playboy persona even once they were together. He said it kept people from putting together who Batman was since they were such opposites. At first, Clark went along with it. The tabloids didn’t bother him one bit. He would see a Wayne scandal on a magazine cover and feel a bit smug, because he knew it was all fake, and at the end of the day Bruce was his and he was Bruce’s. Simple as that.

Those woman didn’t get to stay over at Bruce’s place curled up in his arms as they went to sleep. They didn’t have him to wash their backs in the shower. They didn’t get showered in gifts on a whim because Bruce just wanted to remind them that they were special. They didn’t even get date nights when it was just the two of them in Clark’s apartment watching movies and just relaxing. Most importantly, they didn’t get his love.

Bruce never said it, but he tried to express it in different way. The tender way he kissed him, the way he held him, and the gentle way he touched him when they were making love. They were all like poetry.

Then Clark drew the short straw and got stuck covering one of Bruce’s fundraiser. He had been excited about it. He couldn’t wait to go and see his charitable boyfriend in action. He imagined something regal for some reason. Bruce giving a small speech about the cause, woman swooning and flirting with him, him casually flirting back. But that wasn’t what happened.

The display before him had been obscene to say the least. It wasn’t how the woman had been flirty with Bruce that had gotten to Clark, it was how Bruce was flirting back. His hands were almost always on whoever he had his attention on. Every touch was just a step too close to being intimate and suggestive.

So the next day when woman bragged about getting into Bruce Wayne’ pants and Bruce didn’t deny it, it left Clark to wonder exactly what happened. He didn’t wait to bring it up. He very directly asked Bruce if when he said he had to do certain things to keep if cover, if he really meant that he needed an open relationship to keep both lifestyles separate.

If the answer was yes, then Clark was leaving. He knows he’s not the kind of person who can be happy in that kind of relationship.

Bruce insisted that it wasn’t like that, and apologized for getting carried away. He’d been sincere when he said it. He took Clark’s hands in his and kissed him softly as he promised that there was no one else in his life but him. He even said he would tone back his theatrics if it made Clark feel better.

But it happened again. Clark’s not sure how he got away with half the things he did. Then again everyone was assuming that Bruce was drunk off his ass. So it didn’t matter than he had one of the female guest straddling his waist. Besides, it was some sort of pool party/garden party, what did it matter.

Everything. It meant everything to Clark to see his boyfriend more than enjoying himself having some model type woman over him in the most see through bikini that he’s ever seen. Her breast were very much in his face and threatening to pop out of her top, even though there wasn’t much that would need to escape.

That was when Clark knew things were going too far. He wasn’t the kind to criticize someones figure regardless of their actions. But he was so bitter right now he was sizing this poor woman up and picking out all her flaws. She hadn’t done anything wrong. As far as she was concerned, Bruce was a single bachelor playboy. If anyone was to blame then it was Bruce for not keeping up on his end of the bargain.

Bruce apologized again once they were alone. It had been quick with the sheepish of smile. Later in the week he would spoil Clark with his favorite food, movies, slow intimate sex, anything he could think of to get back on Clark’s good side.

This cycle had a way of repeating itself and every time Clark found it in himself to forgive and understand. But not this time. He gets Bruce’s reasoning behind all of this, kind of, but neither of them can find a middle ground. It was easier to just let it go then to leave both of them to suffer. Breaking things off was the right thing to do. Maybe he shouldn’t have done it in the middle of the gala, but he felt like all of his emotions were bursting through a dam and he couldn’t contain it anymore.

So he went home, got out of the stupid suit and decided to just take some time to himself. He slumped in his favorite chair, not bothering to turn on the lights or the T.V. He was sulking and mulling over what he might have been able to do to make things go differently.

When they first met, it had been like a whirlwind of a romance. It was something out of a novel the way Bruce had chased, him the way Clark let himself be caught. But how could he not, Bruce had been so sweet, and caring, and just a bit awkward. But he had his own kind of charm to him.

Now that Clark thinks back to it, they probably wouldn’t have gotten together if he hadn’t figured out that Bruce was Batman. They had gotten off on the wrong foot when they both got roomed in the same overbooked hotel because of an error with the company's technology. Clark didn’t mind sharing even though Bruce had gone out of his way to let it be known that he wasn’t happy about it.

Clark took it in stride no matter how aggravating it was. He figured the man was just so used to getting his way that when he didn’t, he threw a temper tantrum like a child.

The bed was king size, and Clark didn’t see the issue in sharing it. He took the right side and Bruce took the left and the blankets. Which was fine by Clark. The bed was soft and the room was warm. He could make do with this.

He almost slept through the robbery that was happening throughout the hotel if he hadn’t felt Bruce get out of bed. The billionaire started to make up some excuse about why he was up, tried to get Clark out of the room, or to get him to at least go to the bathroom. In the end he tried to dart Clark in the neck.

But Clark jerked to the left when he realized that something was coming for his face.

“Did you try to dart me?” Clark was stunned as he looked at the little prick in the wall. Instead, he was met with a karate chop to the neck and was knocked out. He woke up in the middle of the fray. By then Batman was on the scene and it didn’t take that much work to piece the two situations together.

“I don’t write for the gossip column. I was never going to tell anyone.” Clark had told him later when he was icing his sore neck. Bruce had apologized for the rudeness and the dart, and the karate chop. After that, they had a budding friendship followed by a crazy romance, but that’s not the point Clark was getting at.

As he sat in the darkness of his apartment he had to wonder if maybe, Bruce had started all this to keep Clark quiet. Maybe he didn’t believe him when he said he couldn’t tell and kept Clark close as insurance. But that was silly. If that had been the case then he would have gone out of his way to comply with Clark’s request so things didn’t end badly, and Clark didn’t tell.

Which was a funny thought because that would mean that he would be more considerate if he was manipulative. So what did that make Bruce?

“Bastard, “Cark decided.

“I’ve been called worse,” Bruce admitted from the other side of the room.

Clark just about jumped out of his skin. He hated when Bruce did the whole ‘emerge out of the shadows’ thing.

“What are you doing here?” Clark had to clear his throat in order for his voice not to waiver.

“I came to see you,” Bruce said simply. “The way you left I…I want to make it up to you.”

“There’s really nothing you can do right now.” Clark admitted. He was too upset to be soothed by Bruce’s normal attempts to smooth things over.

“Can I at least apologize,” Bruce took a cautious step forwards. “I know things got pretty out of hand back there and…”

“Don’t,” Clark cut him off. “It’s always the same thing. Why should I listen to you this time if you’re just going to do it all over again and then we end up back here?” Now Clark wished he had turned on the lights so he could get a better read on Bruce’s facial expression, because his posture gave away nothing.

“You shouldn’t,” Bruce said after a while. “I’m just having trouble, trying to find a middle ground. Everyone is expecting Bruce to be a certain way and…”

“People change,” Clark spoke over him. “You’re not old, but you’re not getting any younger either. It wouldn’t be weird for you to suddenly want a serious relationship and not just hook up all the time. That doesn’t even mean having to come out and say we’re dating, but just not letting everything in a skirt feel you up all the time would be a start.”

His voice was rising as he spoke. Everything that he held back at the party was starting to come out.

“I just wanted some form of commitment Bruce. I don’t need you showing me off to people at every event you’re going to, but just a bit of consideration to how I feel having to see you do this every time. I know the persona thing is really important to you, so if you can’t change the way Bruce is in public then I don’t want anything to do with this.”

Bruce was quiet for a few seconds before he said, “Okay.”

“No. You always say you’re going to change and then you don’t. You go right back to the same behavior. What is so different about this time that you’re really going to change?”

“You’ve never walked away from me like that before,” Bruce answered quietly. “I knew you didn’t like what I did, but I don’t think it really sunk in how much you hated it until now.” Bruce crossed the space between them kneeling in front of Clark and took his hand in his. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” His green eyes sparkled with honesty. “And I won’t ever do it again. I promise if you give me another chance. I don’t want you out of my life.”

Clark knew he was soft. He knew he couldn’t say no to Bruce when it looked like he was ready to cry at the thought of them being apart. And, against his better judgment he nodded.

“One more try.”

Bruce beamed coming up to kiss him passionately. He slipped himself between Clark’s legs, one hand on his thigh the other in his hair. For a moment Clark let him take control. But this wasn’t going to go the way Bruce was planning it.

If there was one thing Clark learned about make up sex after arguments, it was, “don’t let him in you, it will fuck you up. No pun intended.” But Clark knew that there was something about being emotionally vulnerable when they had sex like that that left him crippled. This in the sense that he caved to Bruce all too easy afterwards, found himself more trusting of his words. It was something about they bond they formed when they made love that messed with him and made him more determined to work things out when he really should be letting go. He found himself wanting Bruce more, needing him more, and craving him more.

Even now when he was aware of it he still let himself be guided to the bedroom. But he wanted to be more in control this time. So when Bruce pushed him down on the bed, he flipped them over and pinned his hands above his head. Bruce didn't even care. He smiled up at Clark coyly like this was the first time this had ever happened, like it was the first time they laid together. And the sincerity in that look made Clark melt.

They kissed, gently and sweetly like they had all the time in the world to explore each other and map out their partner's body. It didn't take to long for them to lose their clothes. Bruce was already hard. His engorged cock resting against his lower belly.  And in a way it was beautiful to see Bruce like this, open and trusting that even though Clark was upset with him, that he wouldn't hurt him.

Clark was throbbing between his legs. His cock was so hard the tip was red and leaking. He shifted uncomfortably. His cock was jutting out, so there was nothing for him to rub it against. It didn't even touch his stomach with the way he moved. So he laid his himself flushed to Bruce and felt like he was floating in his own body.

He moaned, and Bruce called his name. Arms and legs wrapped around him. It was glorious the way Bruce looked up at him and rocked his hips up to meet all of Clark’s thrusts. It was beautiful to watch.

This was a sight for only Clark’s eyes. No one else got to see it. No one knew the sounds that Bruce made when he was so far gone all he could do was hold onto him like he was the only thing keeping him grounded. No one knew one knew of the sweet kisses he would trail down Clark's face.

Not those girls at the party, or on the cruises. Not those tabloids paparazzo, and not those gossip columnists. Just him, only him.

“Clark,” Bruce called out to him. He arched up to him with the softest moan. He pleaded with his eyes telling Clark that he wanted him, only him.

That’s the way it should be.

It was all Clark needed to let go of Bruce’s wrists and wrapped his arms around Bruce. His face was in his shoulder as he started to thrust his hips. Bruce was gasping and moaning. His hands grasped at Clark’s plumped ass to hold him close.

“Bruce, ah, Bruce,” Clark was chanting his name like a mantra. It was so good, the way their cocks slid against each other. Each pass of contact bringing them closer to release. Both of them working together to give pleasure to the other.

“Shit,” Bruce cursed between a gasp as Clark started to nip and suck at his neck. Clark wanted to leave marks, big red ones. The kind that Bruce would see in the morning and remember what they had done, who he belong to. The kind of mark that Bruce would try and fail to cover and everyone would know, that Bruce was Clark’s and Clark was Bruce’s.

“I’m gonna cum,” Bruce warned him. Clark picked up the pace until they reached their peak. His toes curled and his hips jerked through their orgasm and Bruce wrapped himself around him like his life depended on holding onto Clark at that very moment.

Clark collapsed on top of him, his body and mind exhausted from everything that happened that night. Bruce was kissing his face in an endorphin-fueled haze.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Clark let him. He enjoyed being doted on for a bit. Besides, it was only a matter of time before things repeated themselves. He might as well enjoy the honeymoon phase while he could.

Fin


End file.
